Good Girl (Love Unexpectedly 2)

Instead her eyes are round—nearly as round as her mouth, which is a comical O shape—as she looks over my shoulder.

Everyone else seems to be looking too, and there’s a new urgency to the buzz.

I turn around, expecting to see that one of the actual stars has arrived, perhaps wearing some scandalous dress or with a date who wasn’t the anticipated significant other, or….

Noah.

Noah is here in Los Angeles.

Wearing a tux.

Noah is walking toward me.

I put all the pieces together:

Noah is in L.A., wearing a tux, and he’s walking toward me.

I blink.

He’s still there.

I pinch my arm, hard. Wake up, Jenny. Not the time for a breakdown.

He’s still there. His eyes are warm as they approach me, his smile just a little bit cocky.

I can’t breathe.

“Oh, Ms. Dawson,” I hear Paula squeal. “Your boyfriend’s even more handsome in person.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say, but nobody seems to be listening.

Nobody except Noah, who’s now a foot away from me.

“No?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“No what?” I ask, too addled to think straight. I’m sort of aware that the lights are flashing all around me, much as they were before, except this time they’re all on me. On me and Noah.

“No, I’m not your boyfriend?” he says huskily, taking a step closer.

Holy cow, he really does look amazing in his tux. His hair looks different too. Good different. Still messy Noah, but deliberately messy, as though someone styled it.

Amber. I bet you anything my best friend got him all fancy for me.

I knew that bitch wasn’t really sick! God, I love her.

“You don’t want to be my boyfriend,” I blurt out.

His eyes narrow as he steps even closer. “And yet here I am.”

“Why?” I ask, having to raise my voice to be heard over the increasing noise of the crowd. “Why are you here?”

Noah reaches for my hand, and I let him take it, although when he squeezes my fingers, I don’t squeeze back.

“Here’s the thing, Jenny Dawson. I think I’m in love with you.”

There’s a collective gasp of shock in the crowd, but there’s no way in hell their shock overtakes mine.

I try to pull my hand back, my eyes watering. “Don’t,” I say. “Don’t do that.”